


Azazel Opens the Gate, and You Walk Out

by orange_8_hands



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Vessel Fic, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 15:53:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_8_hands/pseuds/orange_8_hands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are just that good of a fucking actress. (Ten moments of Ruby.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Azazel Opens the Gate, and You Walk Out

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Mention of torture and rape. Use of disabilist language.
> 
> Notes: I looked up the demon name of Tammi (from x3.09 “Malleus Maleficarum”) and closest answer I could find was Astraroth. I picked the name Malthus for Brady’s demon name since the show never gave him one. All dialogue (except one line) is taken directly from the show. Most of the sections tie directly to a specific episode
> 
> Originally posted on [my LJ](http://orange-8-hands.livejournal.com/1349.html), Oct 2011.

**i.**  
He stands there being choked, and it’s glorious.  
   
You don’t laugh, you don’t smile, because this is it, the beginning of the show, and you will not let a Winchester fuck up your plans before you even get started. He will believe you, he will follow you, it is foretold, it is fate. You were chosen and raised, you were shaped into a demon, you were picked to free your Lord, and _you will not fail_.  
   
You move smoothly, the weapon an extension, showing off all the pretty things your knife makes dead. A swipe swipe here, a swipe swipe there, and you’ve just taken down demons like dominoes, and the little boy wonder is looking at you now.  
   
“I'm the girl who just saved your ass,” you tell him, and really, that’s how you make an entrance boys and girls.

  
 **ii.**  
You lick ketchup off the fry, crunching into the salt, the burn pleasure/pain (you’re a product of hell, pain _is_ pleasure), showing off to Sam just how human you are. But he doesn’t even realize it, doesn’t pay attention, apparently can’t focus on much beyond mommy dearest and your anvil sized hints. _This_ is Azazel’s wonder boy? Being Lucifer’s vessel just means he has the genes, that pesky little blood line, the big brother ready to step into Michael’s shoes, but Azazel wasn’t thinking of that when he called Sam his favorite.  
   
Underwhelming. You’re sitting across from Lucifer’s vessel and you are under whelmed. You are disappointed. You are reminded that Sam didn’t even win Azazel’s little contest.  
   
You can’t even finish the fucking fries. 

  
 **iii.**  
Truthfully, you aren’t that worried. You should be, you’re giving the boys a real weapon, you’re giving them something that could kill you, but you’re just not. The Winchesters are as disappointing as they’re not, and you know they’ve racked up a couple of demons on their kill list (Azazel, as stupid as he was, is still an impressive mark, even if they needed daddy to finish the job), but you just don’t have it in you to be scared of them. Not yet, not nearly close enough. The positive inroads you’ll make giving it to them is worth it being in their hands when you’re within easy reach.  
   
You really liked that shirt though.     
   
You feel Bobby’s eyes on you as you fix the weapon. You know how to do this, how to turn a human weapon into something that can completely destroy the essence of something. It’s a trick Lilith spent centuries working out of a fallen angel, and it’s easy to unravel the carvings, the spells enough so any bullet will do.  
   
You’re a little more worried about the gun in Bobby’s hand, so you disappear fast when you’re done. You can take any wound they want to dish out, you can take a beating if that’s what you need to do to convince them, but one bullet from that gun, one well placed strike with your knife, and there’s no recovery, there’s no going back, there’s no fixing that error.  
   
You can take anything but nonexistence.

  
 **iv.**  
You taunt them about not being strong enough. True, you don’t even have to lie, he’s not strong enough, all that untapped potential just waiting to be split open, dive deep into that delusion of control, but as of now it’s just there, a lump waiting for you to mold. But you need him to get a taste of what he’s going up against, need to show him just how weak he is.  
   
And oh fuck, it hurts, but this is long term planning, this is strategy, and Lilith needs to kill Dean, preferably while Sam is watching, needs to spark him up to the next level, so you press open his mouth and deposit the healing brew. You’re a better witch than Astaroth even knew, and you’re a better demon than any of them will realize until the end, and you had to go save Dean fucking Winchester because Sam is not even close to being ready. Azazel barely got him on the first step, and he’s finally paying some attention, realizing he needs his conscience to take a backseat if he wants to win this battle, but he’s _not there_.   
   
“You saved my life,” Dean says, and you tell him, “Don’t mention it.”  
   
 _No, really, don’t_ , you want to say.  _I feel dirty enough as it is_.  
   
“What was that stuff? God, it was ass. Tasted like ass.”  
   
“It’s called witchcraft, short bus.”  
   
“…you’re the short bus,” you hear him mutter behind you as you leave.  
   
You just saved this man’s life.  
   
 _Again_.  
   
You are vaguely nauseous.  
   
It’s only a little better later that night when you get to play with Dean about Hell. You can’t say it like you want to – describe all the pretty things Hell is going to do with him, glee riding your voice – so you keep it short and sweet _. Yes, Dean, you will turn into one of us. You will turn into what you spent your life fighting._  
   
It _is_ heartbreaking, just like you said, but you don’t mention heartbreak is candy to demons.  
   
“You need to help me get him ready, for life without you; to fight this war on his own,” you finally tell him, and start to walk away. It’s true and it’s not true; Dean is going to be the trigger, Dean is going to die and Sam is going to get his vengeance on, you’ll make sure of it, but if Dean wants to help you lay a little more of the groundwork before the hell hounds come you won’t argue.  
   
He calls you back with a question – “why do you want us to win?” – and all you can think is once again a Winchester misses the fucking point. You just admitted your turning Sam away from good ol’ Sammy, and Dean wants to know why you’re helping. You just admitted all demons were once human, that humanity is burned out of them, that you’ve been a demon for _centuries_ , and he’s asking what makes you different, not realizing you _can’t_ be different. You were a little too loose with the information, you can think, a little too honest, maybe it wasn’t so smart to say that shit, but he doesn’t even pick up on it.  
   
“Isn’t it obvious,” you ask, because apparently he’ll believe this bullshit, “I’m not like them. I – I don’t know why, I wish I was, but I’m not. I remember what its like.”  
   
“What what’s like?”  
   
“Being human.”  
   
The thing is, the thing is…it’s not quite a lie.

  
 **v.**  
Humans catch them.  
   
They should be fucking blushing, because you’re pretty sure you are.  
   
You aren’t very nice to the demon who tells you. (Flayed tongue before flaying skin, you're going to use up some of your anger on this one so you can be calm when you find the Winchesters and have them explain their stupidity. They’re caught by _humans_. They can avoid demons - mostly your doing, but not completely – and angels are leaving them alone until the first seal breaks and they can enter the fight legitimately, but apparently you’ve been worrying about the wrong fucking thing. _Humans_. And you thought saving their lives would be the low point of your time with them.)  
   
You don’t talk to her very often, but you find some human (and maybe you're slicing a knife across his neck a little harder than you need to, cutting too many tendons holding the head, but as it rolls it does nothing to combat this embarrassment) and make the call.    
   
Lilith isn’t sure what patience is getting her, and is going to collect the boys sooner than expected. You still like the idea of the clock ticking down on Dean (tick tock Sammy, your brother’s dying, tick tock tick tock take the next fucking step), and so she gives you permission to play rescue squad, with the pointed reminder the demons she’s sending for collection aren’t going to hesitate in going after you, number one hell traitor.  
   
You don’t mind though. A swipe of your blade here, a swipe of your blade there, and you're warning them to back off as you land inside the police station. They do – Lilith really wasn’t wasting the cream of the crop on this mission – giving you a little time to formulate an exist strategy for dumb and dumber.  
   
“You didn’t tell Dean?” you ask, actually surprised, because you honestly don’t expect the fault lines of their relationship to be this big, this soon. But you’re focused, so you just ask for the Colt.  
   
And no, no, no. “Where’s the Colt?” you ask, because really.  
   
“It got stolen.”  
   
“I’m sorry, I must have blood in my ear. I thought I just heard you say that you were stupid enough to let the Colt get grabbed out of your thick, clumsy, idiotic hands.”  
   
“Fantastic,” you add. Like the Colt was easy to get, easy to give. Making it work on all demons wasn’t hard (what’s a few centuries of torturing an Angel for answers but fun, really) but getting the underlining weapons – the Colt, your knife – is not. “This is just peachy…”  
   
You work through the options quickly, but no, you really need the gun to make this work, so you switch wants. Let’s find out how far they’ve fractured, instead. How easily the Righteous Man is going to break. How easily the Boy Wonder is going to go Dark Side.

“I know a spell,” you make up. “It’ll vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius.”  
   
Course Dean is okay with that part of the plan. “Okay, what do we need to do?”  
   
“Aww, you can’t do anything. This spell is very specific.”  
   
It turns out the virgin you say you need for the spell you wouldn’t perform is tougher than you think. “It’s my decision.”  
   
“Damn straight, cherry pie,” you say, and yeah, you wouldn’t mind riding her, hearing her break, but that could just be because the meat suit you’re in has long gone dull with the horror, and can’t even whimper any more.  
   
The virgin is on board, and Sam is too – oh Sammy, you’re gonna be sucking blood very soon – but Dean is holding out. Confab with his brother, and apparently he’s still too loud because Sam is folding. You got your answer though, and if the reason you’re leaving isn’t quite what you said, it’s close enough. Lilith can just start early then.  
   
If losing the Colt is a bad surprise, you’re not sure how to quantify finding out they made it out alive. But either way you’re fine in spinning this into just one more lesson for Sam to learn, because you really rather he started unleashing his powers before Dean even leaves for the Pit.   
   
“Next time,” you tell them, tell _Sam_ , and you know he’s listening, he’s definitely listening, “We go with my plan.”  
   
You leave. You won’t be back until Sam calls for you.

  
 **vi.**  
He cuts it closer than you expected. Twenty-seven hours and counting (and yeah, your counting, this is better than splitting skin from muscles), but he calls. You’re winding him up nicely when Dean interrupts, but you don’t even mind when Dean hits you and you get to finally, finally hit him back.  
   
Then he’s grinning and he’s got your knife and you’re in a fucking Devil’s Trap and Sam is going to leave you there (even Dean doesn’t want to start the fight about killing you, a distant part of you is able to note) and yeah, you lose it.  
   
“Oh, oh you- so you're just too stupid to live, is that it? Then fine! You deserve hell! I wish I could be there, Dean. I wish I could smell the flesh sizzle off your bones! I wish I could be there to hear you scream!”  
   
They leave, and it’s just you gulping down air and trying to clear the black from your eyes. Definitely the most honest thing you’ve told either one of them, because right now you almost want Dean’s screams more than Sam’s acquiescence.  
   
You call Lilith, carefully moving your shirt out of the way so you can bleed enough but leave the body intact. (Walking around in flesh falling apart is disgusting.) She’s pouring out of her R&R body, swimming through air until she reaches you, wrapping around you like lightning, sparks and sizzles and burns all along. She slides up your neck, teases against your mouth as you tell her the Winchester boys are on their way.  
   
“You’re my best girl,” the smoke tells you. “Now go find another meat suit.”  
   
You exit, she enters, and you decide to go on a small killing spree because otherwise you’re going to the house and watching Dean be ripped apart by hell hounds, and that’s not smart planning. You have a few weeks before you can saunter up to Sam again, and you should probably come up with a story on how you escaped the Devil’s Trap he left you in.  
   
That’s fine though. You’re going to find some humans and do a little role-playing. Rake those chests open with your _teeth_.

  
 **vii.**  
“I escaped,” you say, and Sam doesn’t even ask _how_. Like it’s easy to waltz out of hell when they think you’re a traitor. You would take it as a compliment, that he believes you have that power, but you honestly think he is so far gone he hasn’t even thought about it. He is just a mess, pathetic, whiney, _weak_. Even as a human you had more respect in yourself than to snivel, to cower. That’s fine though, that’s okay, it just makes your job easier, redirect grief to rage, to revenge, the blueprint is a path he’s already followed.  
   
Sam tells you about the final scenes with Lilith, stinking of booze and sweat and grief (so there is something better than the smell of blood), snot dripping down and words cracking as he stumbles over his brother’s name. “She couldn’t hurt me,” he says again, and you just barely refrain from rolling your eyes. He’s still not even close to being strong enough to survive Lilith if she truly wanted to mow him down. You’re not even sure after you finish prepping him if he’d be able to kill her if she wasn’t going to roll over and let him.   
   
He never asks you where you go when you’re not with him. He never asks how you find him (and okay, you can’t sense it but there must be a spell on the car because you never once, ever, tracked him down by it, and as stupid as you find humans and their cops, you’re pretty sure they’re at least smart enough for that.) He never asks why you continuously risk yourself to help him defeat Lilith. You lined up lies, stories, explanations to be carefully rolled out when he starts to wonder, you’ve had them ready since the beginning to help hook and sink him past his disbelief, his biases, but he doesn’t ever ask. Sometimes you offer the information – you show him a little spell from your human years to help you find someone – but he never asks, almost like he doesn’t want to have to force himself to realize your spells aren’t exactly from the side of good.  
   
You remember when Malthus was picked by Azazel to get close to Sam. After he killed the girlfriend and Sam went on his merry way back to hunting, you remember Malthus gloating about how good he was, about how skilled he was to get Sam to trust him. “I had to be human the whole time, I couldn’t slip once, and I didn’t. I was so good he never even knew. I could walk up to him today and he’d fucking hug me hello.”  
   
You’re starting to realize this isn’t an amazing accomplishment.  
   
Sam sits back in the booth and talks about his brother being back, about his powers, about the next lesson and when they should have it, and he never asks. He says, “I don’t even know if I trust you,” but he never asks. And he wants to keep going, and he’s not going to tell Dean (secrets splinter family, didn’t you learn that one already Sammy?) and its all his idea, and he’s just following the bricks you laid out, and this is exactly what you want.       
   
But he never even asks, and fuck, is this too easy since Dean went down? You expected him to be more curious, you expected him to be more cautious. You expected him to question, but he clings to his willing disillusion with all the strength he has.  
   
He really believes he can touch this shit and not have it touch him back. He’s right, he is saving people (and oh, every time it makes you want to hit something, and when Dean interrupts and you have an excuse to choke him, it is so, so hard to step back from the edge), but he’s using _Azazel’s_ powers and how does he not see? How does he not see how it’s going to taint him, how drinking your _blood_ is crossing one of his ethical lines?  
   
You need him tainted, you need him heading down this path, and you want to take credit for all that he’s already become and all that he’s going to be (you can see his trajectory, he’s right on schedule these days), but you aren’t Malthus, you aren’t Azazel, and you wonder…you wonder if you aren’t maybe just a little bit unnecessary.

  
 **viii.**  
It’s fucking hot, watching his anger overwhelm his common sense. You would have fucked him anyways – too easy of another bind to tie him to you – but you actually want to too. Nice little perk while seals are breaking.  
   
He is big, large hands spanning the meat suit’s waist, large dick filling you up; it feels oh so good to have him pound into you. You wish there was still a girl inside, so you could reel her in and out, let her scream inside your head every time he fucks you, every time he cuts your skin to drink you, but you make do.  
   
And then it just gets better. The first time you call him Sammy and he doesn’t even blink, it’s just like the first time you gutted someone. No, better. He doesn’t even realize it (not the brightest bulb in the bunch, you think fondly), but you know what it means, Dean jerks and even _he_ knows what it means. It’s the keys to the fucking castle, and seriously, manipulation is better than sex.

  
 **ix.**  
Don’t get it wrong, you do like Sam. He’s violent and wrathful and selfish and a good fuck and spiraling out of his conscience like a spinning top. Pulling this con on him is quite possibly the highlight of your demon life. Watching him splinter from Dean, watching him harden with fury, watching him lose himself to your blood…you may or may not be necessary but this is more than you could have hoped for.  
   
You are honest with yourself though, and the thought is a small hum in the back of your mind, a small groove making deeper tracks. He is not worthy. He is just not worthy enough for Lucifer.  
   
You don’t know where that thought comes from but once it’s there, it’s _there_. You never thought this way before – a meat suit was a meat suit was a meat suit. You may have preferred possessing pretty women to case yourself in, but you never had Alistair’s finer distinction and hearing one soul break as you rode their body down was just as good as hearing another. There are a select few you would like to put on a rack and watch, or even better work on – such a shame you couldn’t see Dean- _o_ break like a popsicle stick, but you do get to see the end result, makes you want to lap up his re-made skin, breath in his fear-soaked sweat  - but at the end of the day its about the torture, not the one being tortured. Alistair always said that’s why you weren’t a good student, why you didn’t get it, but you think you get it just fine. You just don’t care. Must be the demon in you.   
   
But you care about this, and you don’t know why. Not like Lucifer isn’t going to destroy whatever is left of Sam and just use his shell, and hey, the package _is_ nice. (Nails scratching against scars, muscles hardening and quivering – he is used and abused and its tasty to feel his fingers dig into your meat suit’s skin.) But he’s just not worthy.  
   
You wonder if Zachariah thinks the same thing about Dean.  
   
You do not doubt. You never did, not even when you were human and asking for help from corners outside of God, from evil things. Lilith picked you because you always had faith, you were made of faith, you were made _for_ faith. You are loyal down to whatever bones you are currently housed in. You are loyal to your Lord (even if that Lord changed once you hit the Pit), and you are loyal to your Shepard. You haven’t seen Lilith in months, haven’t talked to her, but you know your faith in her is returned to you, because she makes no effort to check up on you. Sure, she gets reports – from whatever demon is still alive to share, once Sammy’s done with them – but considering you’re a demon she has a shocking amount of trust in you. Everyone else thinks you are a traitor, and you could so easily turn into one, could so easily push Sam back from his path, all it takes is one simple truth about the final seal, about the angels, and you can stop the Winchesters from destroying humanity. You could see how it could be clearly – humans have their uses, after all, and you’ve already proven you could dodge whatever demons go after you. You have the power to stop it all. You’re really the only one who does.  
   
Sam is following your path, and you’re going to let him, you’re going to help him. He is going to free Lucifer and be filled by him. He is going to be the most important human until he becomes the most important demon. He is going to be destroyed for the most important purpose.  
   
(You tell yourself to stop wondering if he’s worthy of the honor.)

  
 **x.**  
It’s sex and torture and salt and faith. It’s hands caressing and blood dripping and the taste of smoke. It’s a thousand lies and a thousand promises and one dream. It’s being the best, it’s beating them all, it’s getting to the end alive. It’s the fruition of plans longer than history.  
   
It’s winning.    
   
You’ve known since the beginning you would get him here, but it’s still a surprise, still a wonder that you did it. He freed Lucifer. _You_ freed Lucifer.   
   
He tries to attack you, and you want to pat his cheek. Lilith was right, he really is adorable.  
   
“Don’t hurt yourself, Sammy. It’s useless. You shot your payload on the boss.”  
   
“The blood…you poisoned me,” he says, shaking, and is he really still trying to hold out for purposeful ignorance, for fake oblivion?  
   
“No. It wasn’t the blood. It was you…and your choices. I just gave you the options, and you chose the right path every time. You didn’t need the feather to fly, you had it in you the whole time, Dumbo. I know it’s hard to see it now, but this is a miracle.” And it is, it truly is. You took an unworthy tool to pop open the lock and it did. So many things could have gone wrong, so many places it could have turned. “So long in coming. Everything Azazel did, everything Lilith did. Just to get you here. You were the only one who could do it.”  
   
“Why? W-why me?”  
   
“Because, because it had to be you, Sammy. It always had to be you.” He still doesn’t realize, he still doesn’t _get it_ , and you do like him, you really do, and you think maybe Lucifer doesn’t have to destroy him completely, maybe a little gratitude will be thrown Sam’s way, so you don’t completely lie when you say, “You set him free, and he’s gonna be grateful. He’s gonna repay you in ways you can’t imagine.” (Truth, even. After all, Sam has proven to have a very limited imagination.)  
   
The door breaks open and Dean comes in, but he’s superfluous until he says yes to Michael, unless you want to use him as a sounding board for your gloating (and unlike other demons you never gloated along the way, you were never stupid enough to say something until it was over.)  
   
“You’re too late,” you tell him; and yeah, that’s your glee, that’s the cheer you’ve kept repressed, nothing can bring you down because Lilith’s blood is almost finished, there’s nothing they can do to stop it.  
   
But Dean is still moving towards you, saying “I don’t care,” and then Sam’s hands are holding you in place and your knife is -

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: I’m pretty sure the fic _[The Bright Burn of Salt](http://archiveofourown.org/works/189299) by nonisland_ subconsciously influenced me for ii. I know a lot of fics about Ruby say something similar as I did in viii re: the girl screaming during sex with Sam, but I think I was most influenced by the fic _[Epiphany/Apocalypse](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11692) by waldorph_.
> 
> Note 2: I think Ruby liked him a lot more on the show than I let her in the fic, but I always thought that was a slightly generous (or badly done) reading by the writers and actress; she pulled an almost two year con on him so she can hand deliver him to be destroyed, and I don’t think she once ever flinched away from her path. (She’s kind of like the complete opposite of Castiel when it comes to faith and humanity – she secretly burns with it, and won’t give it up for humans; he publicly claims and clings to it, but sets it aside for ~~Dean~~ humans.)


End file.
